Accustomed To Her
by merrywanderer
Summary: Stefan takes Caroline at her word and leans on her when helping Elena becomes too much for him, but it isn't long before his feelings for her become...confusing. Slight AU incorporating some canon. Post 4x03
1. Chapter 1

He shows up at her door just like he always does, wearing a t-shirt and a grimace, and looking like his puppy just died. His downward glance suggests that he can't quite muster the courage to look her in the eyes. Whether this is because of her ability to read him or the sun shining directly in his line of vision remains to be seen. In any case, he's in need of a friend, that much is obvious, and perhaps in need of a good meal.

"Hey Stefan. Come on in."

He doesn't speak, merely nods in her direction and takes his usual spot on the sofa, her sofa. He's become accustomed to her sofa, to her living room where he rests his arm across the familiar brushed linen back. He runs his fingers along the stiff piping then grips it so he can turn his body just so and face her. She's not seated yet of course as she's still shutting the door, but she will be soon and directly across from him, just where she always sits. Close enough to touch. Out of habit she pours him a drink. When they have their talks, he always takes a drink.

"Not today. I don't want it, but thank you."

Curious.

"Well what brings you here if not for my mother's scotch?" She smiles, though he doesn't see it. His thoughts appear to be elsewhere, the hardwood floors, her mother's antique vase, his zipper, and everywhere but on her. She shrugs off the annoyance this observation creates and instead focuses on him. He looks so forlorn, so lost. Maybe there's more to this visit than his usual Elena drama.

"Seriously Stefan, what's going on?" Her brow is the one furrowed now, her arms across her chest. There's an insistence in her tone this time and he picks up on it immediately. She sees his eyelids close and his head go into his hands before they run through his hair. Then he sighs, and the melodrama of it all alleviates any worry she may have had.

"I don't know Caroline, I'm just having trouble processing some things, and it's making me crazy. I just...I just need to sit here. And talk." He slouches back against the sofa, but not before grabbing the nearest throw pillow and hugging it to his chest. "To you. I need to talk to you."

"Well duh, I knew that part. It isn't as if that's anything new." She crosses to him in two steps and playfully shoves his shoulder. "You just came in here extra broody so I thought that something bad had happened. You really need to work on your body language. It's sending off signals that you aren't intending."

His head shoots up at her words and for the first time since he arrived, he meets her gaze. "What do you mean? Why would you say that? I'm not being weird." He's clearly ruffled, though she's not exactly sure why.

"Whoa, calm down. I didn't mean anything by that. I was kidding, mostly. Geez, what's gotten into you? You're all hyped up."

He looks at her for a bit and seems to want to say something. He does that thing where he opens and closes his mouth several times in a row but nothing comes out, no thought is relinquished. As she sits beside him, she brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. She might as well get settled in, this looks to be a long one.

"Why don't you start at the beginning." It's best to leave the teasing aside, she decides, and gives him her full attention. She was avoiding this method, if she's being honest with herself, for reasons she hasn't quite allowed herself to explore. She just knows that hearing him agonize over Elena is uncomfortable lately. Stronger than uncomfortable even, it feels sharp and biting. There's something about the way he says her name, "Elena", that forces her to examine something in her that's been bubbling beneath the surface. It was hardly noticeable until recent weeks when she began to pay attention to the lingering smiles on her face when she thought of some dumb thing he said, or the way she would stop right in the middle of the room when his face ran across her mind, or the fluttering in her gut when she heard his knock at her door. It was nothing, it really was, but it was vexing all the same.

He sighs again, this one louder that the first. He can be such a drama queen.

"I saw Elena with him today."

Ouch. She glosses over the bite and nods for him to continue.

"They were in her kitchen, not doing anything important, just talking and laughing. He was sitting on the counter and she was making breakfast for Jeremy, and it all just looked so domestic. So normal. They can't be that, right? They're not normal, they're volatile and unpredictable. They're extreme, not average." He shakes his head and can't seem to gather his thoughts. "I'm not making much sense, I know. It was just so weird, the whole scene. Like they'd been doing the same routine for ten years and I was the intruder."

She reaches up and covers his hand with hers, lets it rest there. He's hurting again and he needs her so she will be there for him regardless of consequence to her. This is what they do, what she promised she would do for him. It all started as a means for him to control his urges, his bloodlust, but it morphed into something entirely different once his brother took over Elena's "training". Damon, it seemed was simply better at helping her, so he said anyway, and was more than happy to take Stefan's place. They began spending hours together daily, heads bent together whispering, focused and oblivious to everyone around them. She withdrew from him pretty quickly, always blaming it on Damon, saying he needed her for this or that but Stefan is no fool. He could see what was happening. Caroline promised him that he could come to her whenever he needed and he definitely needed.

She listens to him go into vivid detail. Elena was scrambling the eggs while Damon told an off color joke about a minister, a priest, and a rabbi. Jeremy busied himself by trimming his fingernails while reading the paper online, blatantly ignoring the would be couple in the kitchen. At one point, the grease popped and a tiny bit splashed onto Elena's hand which caused her to cry out. Damon was by her side in a flash with a bag ice and an arm around her waist before the both of them realized she wouldn't need the ice. The burn had already healed. They burst into a fit of raucous laughter at the exact same moment.

"It wasn't a big deal or a significant moment between them, nothing like that. It was one of many small insignificant moments. But compile those moments together and what you have is very significant, very important."

She watches him tell his tale and is struck by how matter of fact he is, how much calmer he is compared to when he first walked in the door and it pleases her to know that she is the one who enabled him to take a breath, to relax. His shoulders have lost their tension, his face is no longer scrunched and pained, and he has an ease about him that was not present twenty minutes prior. His eyes even seem a bit brighter. She takes them in in all their blueness and feels as if she could swim in their depths. His eyes are clear and honest...and ever so handsome.

It takes him saying her name three times before she is snapped out of her trance.

"Caroline? Caroline are you alright? Can you hear me?" He's waving his hand in front of her face now.

"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine. I just, I mean, I'm a little tired, that's all." Can vampires blush because she's sure it's happening to her.

"What do you mean you're tired? Is everything okay? You look a little strange."

"No, no, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Moving on! So...this all happened this morning?" She's sure he can see right through her.

"What? Nah, it was about a week ago."

"Oh." Her first thought is to chastise him for dwelling on this for seven days straight but changes her mind when his mood shifts suddenly and unexpectedly. He stands up abruptly and begins to pace the room, practically from corner to corner. He appears to be deep in thought and occasionally looks over at her without speaking actual words but attempting to say so much anyway.

"Stefan, I'm sorry I set you off, or whatever, but you have really got to let this go. I mean, it was a week ago. I'm assuming you haven't seen them together since then so why is it still bothering you so much?" She hesitates before quietly adding, "I know it hurts you that she chose him to guide her, that she's still choosing him at every turn, I get it. But I don't want you to hurt. I don't want you to dwell on this. Maybe it's time to just let her be."

He's stopped pacing to listen to her, his expression unreadable as it's equal parts frustration and amusement.

"But that's just it, Caroline. I haven't been dwelling on my pain because I have none. It didn't even phase me to see them living like that in domestic bliss. I guess I've been dwelling on my lack of pain. Does that sound weird?"

"Yes. Very."

He laughs and it's a crystalline wonder. "You know, that's what I love about you. You're always so honest with me. If I do or say something that you don't like, you just say it. Out loud. I never have to worry about being anything other than myself when I'm around you."

She swallows and instantly knows that if her heart were still pumping, it would be working overtime in this moment.

"I came here because I realized that after i saw them together, I was fine. I wasn't mad anymore, or jealous, or even annoyed at the two of them. I was simply able to go on with my day, which meant that I wouldn't need to come see you about it anymore."

"Oh." Her face falls. She can literally feel it sagging. His words are a punch to her gut, and though she refuses to acknowledge why that is, she is aware of it all the same. She's aware of him. Of how he makes her feel. Of how his absence in her life would affect her.

Apparently he's aware of her reaction because his eyes grow wide and distressed. "No, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Well, how did you mean it? Whatever, it's fine. We weren't really that close anyway. I was just helping you to return the favor, ok?"

She turns around because she thinks she might cry and she refuses to allow him to see. He can't know how he affects her and he certainly can't know about her morphing feelings for him, whatever they may be. She needs a tissue so she discreetly reaches down to the coffee table, but can't find the box. Her hand searches and brushes against cool flesh instead of the hand scraped wood she was expecting. She whips around and he's there, right there behind her with only inches to spare. He's holding the box of tissues and hands one to her.

"I really hope that's not true, about the favor. I really hope you were just mouthing off at me." He smiles at her and some of the hurt vanishes instantly, leaving only trace amounts behind. He can do this to her, he can immobilize her with a flash of his teeth.

"Oh I meant it alright, every word." But there's no bite in her tone and his smile grows wider.

"See that's the thing though, that would hurt me more than anything which means I would need someone to talk to about it. But who would I talk to if I can't talk to you? That's what had me going around in circles all week. That's why I couldn't focus, can't focus. It seems I've grown accustomed to you."

He's merely a breath away now and his eyes are piercing, boring into her own. They stand like this for an eternity or maybe just a good ten seconds but to her there is no difference.

"Perhaps it would be fair to say that I have, perhaps, grown accustomed, as you say, to you too...perhaps."

His hand moves slowly to her waist and proceeds to tug her into his chest, into him. His eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. She is so stunned by the manic shift in mood that she can hardly move.

"Perhaps." He clears his throat, nervous, and leans in to her left side placing a feather light kiss on the apple of her cheek, then he stays there. Both of his arms encircle her slender frame and all resistance melts as she relaxes into his embrace. Chills run up and down her spine as he quietly speaks the words she hasn't let herself believe but so desperately wants to hear.

"You're my best friend, Caroline..."

She brings her arms up around his neck and gently squeezes, but he's not done.

"...and I think I'm falling for you."

_END (or is it?)_

**A/N: These lovely characters are of course not mine, though all of the mistakes are :).**


	2. Chapter 2

She reads the same paragraph she has been reading for the last half hour. She has read and reread it at least fourteen times yet she can't seem to concentrate long enough to move on to the next one.

Frustrated, she places the book face down on her night stand and goes back to painting her fingernails. Of the ten, only two nails have been colored Midnight in Moscow, her current favorite. She must have gotten distracted. After applying the raven hued polish to her left hand, she takes a break to stare at the wall and think of her to do list and all of the items she has yet to accomplish this week. With a sigh, she leans back against her headboard and closes her eyes.

But she's not actually thinking about that list, or the nail polish or the book, even though it's her favorite of the fluffy escapist variety. She's thinking of, or rather desperately trying not to think of him. He's taken up residence in her thoughts and refuses to leave despite her attempts to evict him. It's all his fault of course. He had to go and wreck things with his kindness and sensitivity and his honesty that has practically incapacitated her. She didn't ask for this, not even a hint. This was all him and all wrong and horrible. And wonderful. She lets her mind wander again to that brief moment that caused her to lose the ability to concentrate on a single task for longer than twenty seconds.

_"You're my best friend Caroline, and I think I'm falling for you."_

Her hands sift through her hair as she brings her knees to her chest. She can't get comfortable. She's restless.

"Why did he have to say it out loud?"

A glance down at her hand confirms that she has ruined her polish. Again. She lets out an exasperated groan and pitches the small bottle of dark amethyst liquid across the room and into the waste basket. But this does not provide enough relief so she picks up her copy of Bridget Jone's Diary and flings it across the room as well. Realizing that this method of therapy is actually working, she searches for random items to chuck at the wall. Her slippers, an old notebook, the ceramic horse her mother gave her years ago will all suffice so she gathers them onto the unmade bed and prepares a full on attack against the lilac walls of her bedroom. It isn't until she picks up the horse that she hears him and even then it's not because he lacks stealth. He wants her to know he's there so he chooses the classic throat clearing.

She nearly jumps out of her skin but recovers quickly and glares at him.

"What are you doing here?"

He smirks and his eyes dart to her hands and the horse she is holding. "You might want to rethink that choice. You're probably going to regret using that particular item for...whatever it is you're doing here."

"I'm not doing anything here. I'm just, I'm only, I'm working off a little steam, okay? Why are you lurking in my room, all shadowy and creeper-like?

The laugh he emits is so charming, so lovely that she might melt, but she can't let that happen. It would simply be too costly.

"I'm not a creeper, I swear. I just came to check up on you. I haven't talked to you in several days, though it isn't for trying on my part."

"Yes, well, I've been very busy." She refuses to look at him.

"Ah, I see. You've been busy." He hesitates before adding, "I don't suppose it has anything to do with what I said to you the other day?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" She busies herself tidying up her room, putting all of her arsenal back in their proper places. She's very good at feigning ignorance, or at least she thinks she is.

His smile fades a bit. "Come on Caroline, you know what I'm talking about. I said something to you, something big, and I think it upset you. Are we just going to ignore it?"

"I'm not ignoring anything. You were just feeling vulnerable and you said a little something that you didn't even mean so it's no big deal. Okay?"

As she continues to move things around her room without any real purpose, she feels his grimace even though her back is to him and she hears his sigh despite his attempts to be quiet.

"Caroline, would you please stop for a minute so we can talk?"

His words are so honest and open and it just infuriates her. Why can't he just play along? It's for his own good as well as hers.

"Look Stefan, I don't want to mess up what we have. It's important to me. It's special, okay? Plus, there's the whole Elena side of things to deal with and I just don't know that we need to go down that road."

There. She's said it and it's out there and it's the right thing. And it sucks.

His countenance falls ever so slightly and she sees it and it breaks her heart. The last thing she wants to do is to hurt him but it really is the right thing to do. There is too much at stake. Elena would never forgive them.

"I see. Well, if you hadn't jumped in there first with all of this, I would have. So you see, there's nothing to worry about. We're friends. Best friends. But not more than that." He gives a half hearted shrug.

If she squints sort of cross-eyed at him, she can almost believe the words coming out of his mouth, but as it is he's never been a good liar. It's part of his appeal. But she will keep up appearances because it is what is best for all involved.

"Good, that's good. I'm glad we cleared that up." The awkwardness is palpable but they can get past it.

"Actually, the reason I came by is because I need a place to crash for a bit. I don't really feel like hanging around Elena and Damon while they're making googly eyes at each other. So how about it?"

Her heart jumps but only briefly before she recovers. "Sure. Of course you can stay here. We can watch movies and play scrabble and bitch about Damon...it'll be fun!"

He smiles, amused. She's definitely a handful.

They go on about their days as if it never happened. As if he hadn't made an earth shattering confession to her and she hadn't responded as if he were her world. It's forgotten, at least on the surface, and things are back to normal. She comes home every day with a story about how some girl tried to ruin everything by selecting the wrong music for the dance or about how she thinks she might have to run for office some day because no one, and I mean no one running this town knows what they're doing. He listens with a smile and a closed mouth because he knows that all she really needs is to just get it all out.

They watch movies at least twice a week and sometimes two in one night depending on his mood. If he's feeling particularly broody she'll pop in their favorite Christopher Guest film and laugh until their sides hurt. She sits on a separate sofa of course which doesn't go unnoticed by him but he says nothing. He is patient (and she's _worth it). _

When Elena comes around, he gets antsy. It's just weird having her there and he's not nervous or angry but maybe a little bit anxious. He worries that she'll be able to read him, that she'll see where his heart lies now. She knows him so well and he cannot deceive easily. But Caroline is always there, across the room, or in the car, or down the hall and she looks at him. She just looks at him and it calms him. She teases him after Elena leaves. Every time.

"You are so uptight, you know this right?" A soft punch to the bicep accompanies the jest.

"What? No I'm not. I'm loose. I'm easy." He pops his color and props his feet up on the ottoman.

"Good grief, Stefan. You are the most tightly wound person I know. You should probably think about doing some relaxation exercises in the morning or something. You're going to give yourself a stroke."

He looks at her briefly and they laugh at the absurdity of her comment and it's soothing to his soul because she knows him. She knows him.

Several weeks pass and the tension between them relaxes and they go back to being Stefan and Caroline, just as they were. This doesn't last, of course.

There is a raging storm one night that sends half of Mystic Falls running for shelter to their basements. The power inevitably goes out so they root around for flashlights. Coming up empty handed, they settle on a few candles and a mountain of blankets and pillows piled in the center of the room. Lest they grow bored, he makes a mad dash for the liquor cabinet upstairs and returns with several bottles of alcohol in varying shades of amber and burgundy.

"Is that all you got? Gosh Stefan, what are you going to drink then? Surely you don't intend that I share?"

He answers by popping the top off of a cabernet and downing half the bottle in one gulp.

"Nope. I don't intend to share at all."

She shoves him a bit too hard and he ends up dropping the bottle, the remains saturating her blouse.

"Stefan!" She is indignant.

"Why are you yelling at me?" He laughs and his hands go up as if to say "that was all you."

"Because it's your fault I shoved you in the first place. Now please go get me another shirt. I can't wear this one."

"Afraid someone might see you?"

"No. It's wet and uncomfortable. And I want to get drunk, not smell like one."

He reclines on his side and shoots her a smirk. "I'm not moving, princess."

Her eyes narrow. She is good at this game. She always wins. "Fine." She proceeds to unbutton the first three buttons of her shirt before he realizes what she is doing. He sits bolt upright.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Four buttons, five, then the sixth and final button.

"But I'm sitting right here!" He is incredulous.

"I know. But you refuse to get me a shirt and I refuse to wear this one. It seems we are at an impasse." The blouse slides off of her shoulders onto the blankets.

He averts his eyes and clears his throat. She is all smiles and feigned innocence. But he will not be bested. He takes a moment to recover, then stands up and promptly removes his pants.

Now it is her turn to be shocked.

"Stefan, stop!"

"What? Some of that wine splashed onto my pants. I don't think I can wear them anymore." He sits back down in an oxford and striped boxer briefs looking utterly ridiculous.

She is the first to cave. With a giggle, "I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to demand that you put your pants on when I'm sitting here in my bra." She grabs the nearest throw and tosses it over her shoulders. "Better?"

"Well, not really better, but a little less distracting."

He gets a pillow to the face for that one. After they've laughed themselves silly, they end up on their backs, head to head, and prepare for a round of twenty questions.

"Okay, so think of something right now. It can be anything at all. Well, not just anything, something that scares you, you biggest fear, or maybe something that you love. I'll try to guess what it is by asking you questions about it, but you can only answer yes or no."

"I know how to play twenty questions, Caroline."

"I know, but you may not know my rules. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Okay, do you have your thing?"

He nods.

"Okay, is it living?"

"Yes."

"Have I seen this something before?"

"Yes. Many times."

"Only yes or no! Okay, hmm...is it old?

"Most definitely not." She lifts her head off the floor to shoot him a glare. "Sorry. NO."

"So it's alive, it's young, and I've seen it. Oh! Is it that scraggly cat that keeps lurking around your house?"

"Uh, no."

"Is it an animal?"

"No."

"Is it a person."

"Yes."

She flips over onto he stomach.

"I forgot the easiest question! Is it something that scares you or something you love?"

He mirrors her and flips over onto his stomach.

"Only yes or no questions, Caroline. Get with it."

"Fine. Is it something that scares you?"

"Yes."

"Good, that helps. Let's see, is it-"

"Ask me the other one."

"What other one?"

"The other question."

"I already know which one it is."

"Just ask it."

"FINE." She rolls her eyes. "Is it something you love?"

"Yes."

Her brow creases and she looks at him. She hasn't really bothered to look at him, really look at him since that day in her living room when he admitted to feeling something more than friendship for her. She has been careful to evade his eyes, to ignore the truth in them. It's been much easier to avoid his gaze, to pretend there isn't something lingering underneath his expression. She hasn't payed attention to the admiration he exudes or the affection he emits with a single glance or gesture. But tonight she has been drinking and has let her guard down. She has not been careful tonight and she meets his eyes and is assaulted with understanding.

She swallows, unsure of what to say.

"So this 'thing' that you love...it scares you?"

"It terrifies me." There is no pretense.

"And yet...you love it. You love..."

"Yes."

She gets that feeling in her gut, that fluttering that's thrilling and a little bit unbearable. It forces her to action and suddenly her lips are on his, tentative and sweet. She kisses him and it is the most natural feeling. She pulls back to look at him again and he is stunned and elated all at once.

"Stefan, is that your thing?"

"Sort of. Not entirely. It's really more like this."

His arms go around her and he pulls her to his chest. His mouth finds hers in no time at all and they are kissing and it is a release. All the weeks of denial, of avoidance have taken their toll on the both of them and it's like Christmas morning if Christmas were a holiday dedicated to kissing and touching and being as close as humanly possible to the one person who makes your heart leap and settle at the same time. He brings his hands up to hold her face and stops for just a moment.

With a wink and a smirk, "So did I follow your rules or what?"

She scoffs and she smacks his arm and they laugh. And they kiss. And the rest of the world disappears.

_TBC_


End file.
